


the colour palette you choose

by shostyhoevich



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 2 mil tchaik drop, 2set2mil, M/M, Slice of Life, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22304260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shostyhoevich/pseuds/shostyhoevich
Summary: "everything’s kinda jumbled together y’know. like if you poured bubble tea and durians into a blender and blended that shit together."
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 3
Kudos: 74





	the colour palette you choose

**Author's Note:**

> 1am plot bunny visited while i was falling asleep and got me writing this short fic, so here's my first fic in the tsv fandom :^) i meant to upload it just before brett’s tchaik drop but alas they decide to do a livestream :”) title's from artpop by lady gaga
> 
> //disclaimer: i love durians; i just find brett's reaction to them hilarious.

a single ‘ding’ resonates through the otherwise quiet living room. two young men sit side by side on a low couch, one gripping onto the other’s arm firmly. 

“it’s done,” eddy says after a tense silence. 

“it’s done,” brett echoes, staring blankly at the completed bar on the laptop screen. he slowly let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, shoulders quivering.

eddy hums and brings his hand over one of brett’s, lightly stroking his wrist. brett can still hear blood rushing through his ears and feel his heart thumping hard against his ribcage, and he inhales unsteadily. 

his eyes flicker across the screen, taking in the words “2 million” and “tchaikovsky drop” and “uploaded”. his phone vibrates on the coffee table from the endless notifications flooding in. brett slams the laptop shut while eddy reaches over to silence the phone and slide it under a throw pillow. brett tugs his hoodie over his head and folds his legs against his chest to hug with one arm, the other still wrapped around eddy’s.

a minute passes, maybe two, as brett focuses on matching his shaky breathing with the steady rise and fall of eddy’s shoulders. eddy sits there patiently, just lets brett come to terms with his accomplishment. 

“is this-“ brett clears his throat. “is this how you felt when you dropped your pag?” he finally says. 

eddy shrugs. “kinda, i guess? but probably not as much as you are now. pag was more like a research paper that i finished on the day it was due. tchaik means so much more to you than pag did to me.”

brett makes a disgusted sound at the memory of university assignments and scowls at eddy. “dude, there were left hand pizz’s!” eddy says defensively. 

“and i’d have gladly helped with that, but you wouldn’t let me.”

eddy shrugs. “fair. and i don’t regret it.” 

brett grows silent and his shoulders tense. he taps his thumbs together and bounces his leg, shaking the couch a little which would normally annoy eddy, but the latter figures the least he can do right now is to tolerate it. resting his free hand on brett’s, eddy draws random symbols on the back of his hand with a calloused fingertip to anchor him.

“what’s going on in your mind?” eddy probes. 

the tightness between brett’s eyebrows scrunches up just a little more — imperceptible to most others. but of course eddy picks it up. he’s spent half a lifetime around brett yang after all. 

“hnnn. everything’s kinda jumbled together y’know. like if you poured bubble tea and durians into a blender and blended that shit together. but like, just the initial bit when everything’s still vaguely recognisable?”

eddy’s face goes through a series of contortions at the mental image and he chuckles in surprise. “that’s… oddly specific? what are the bubble tea bits?”

“how happy i am that i’ve finally recorded tchaik, i guess? and how supportive everyone’s been? and i’m also a little proud of myself with how it turned out?”

“dude, hell no. i’m so fucking proud of you. like, i literally wanna let all the neighbours know that you’ve made a fucking gorgeous recording of tchaik and blast it from our speakers.”

“god, please don’t,” brett moans, pulling his hoodie lower while attempting to sink deeper into the couch. “don’t wanna get a noise complaint on our first month here.”

“‘s not noise if it’s a fucking gorgeous recording of tchaik, though,” eddy insists. 

brett might as well be one with the couch at this point, but he lets out a small embarrassed giggle. the tension hanging around them settles a little. eddy continues running his calloused fingers gently over brett’s hand that’s holding onto his arm and relaxes into his warmth. 

“okay, but i meant what i said. you did a really beautiful job with tchaik and all the months of practicing has paid off, and i’m just- i’m really, really proud of you, brett. and i’ll keep reminding you that.”

“thank you, eddy. for always being there,” brett says softly.

eddy adjusts himself to rest his head on brett’s, and they relax into comfortable silence with their own thoughts. occasionally, gusts of wind sweep through the open window, and the late afternoon chatter from the streets below their flat serves as a welcoming background noise.

and when brett feels a wave of anxiety begin to wash over him, he distracts himself by tapping out the fingerings of a familiar piece on eddy’s arm. and eddy easily identifies it three phrases in. it’s a piece they’d spent countless hours working on together, achieving that interpretation they both had in mind, appreciating the spot on synchrony that it demands. navarra.

eddy joins in with double stops on brett’s forearm, humming the melody to his line which brett accompanies. they don’t hold back identical knowing grins when they reach the back and forth pizzicatos. as they repeat it, brett playfully flicks at eddy’s thigh on his pizzicato, and eddy retaliates with a slap on brett’s. the older runs of breath soon after when he tries to keep up with his fingers drumming out the passage of arpeggios, and his playing halts with a dramatic wheeze.

“we should release an album of our duets at three mil subs,” brett declares.

“and another for our favourite pieces at four mil,” eddy adds on.

“your sibelius drop when we reach five mil. with an orchestra and everything.”

eddy groans. “let’s not go that far. our fans need time to get over your tchaik drop first, man.” brett chuckles and fidgets nervously, and grows quiet again. eddy chews on the cracking skin on his bottom lip and apologetically squeezes brett’s knee. “thinking about the durians?”

brett hums. 

“wanna share ‘em with me?”

“since when did you like durians?” brett snorts. eddy wiggles his eyebrows and gives brett a sly grin, but it quickly morphs back into an expectant look. brett sighs, “i don’t know. they’re just like, negative thoughts? like what if people don’t like it? or it doesn’t deserve the hype it got?”

“fuck what they think. we of all people know that there’s always gonna be someone who doesn’t like a certain rendition. thing is, are you satisfied with it?”

brett takes a moment to ponder. “yea. yea, i am,” he finally says firmly. 

eddy’s smile widens. “good. and if it’s any help, i am too.”

“i know you are.” a smirk creeps onto brett’s face. 

“getting cocky aren’t we?” eddy teases. brett shrugs one shoulder innocently. 

“so what happens now?”

“you decide. it’s your week. you wanna walk along the river at 2am, or drink your weight in bubble tea, or drag me out to hike under the sun? or just stay in here and play smash all day? whatever you wanna do, i’m down.”

“can we just stay at home for a while more? i don’t know what i’ll do if i meet a fan.”

eddy stretches and pops his neck. “sure, man. i’ll boot up the switch. want some tea too? belle gave me some peach flavoured ones when she visited.”

brett nods from under his hoodie and unfolds himself to sit cross legged on the couch. as eddy passes behind him to start the kettle in the kitchen, he rests his hand firmly on brett’s shoulder and rubs his thumb over the spot he knows is the tensest. 

“fucking proud of you,” he reminds with a cheeky grin. 

brett playfully swats at him, and if the warmth in his chests blooms a little more, well, he’s not the only one.

**Author's Note:**

> please comment and drop concrit!! it’s been a while since i last wrote fanfics, so please be gentle :~)  
> find me on twt too at the same username!


End file.
